Ceremonials
by Bookjunk
Summary: Something happens the night before Layla's wedding. Layla/Warren.
1. Only if for a night

**Ceremonials**

**Chapter 1: Only if for a night**

'Will, it's...' Layla paused, glancing at the clock, '...not really that late. Has Warren's bachelor party ended already?'

Clenching the phone between her shoulder and ear, she placed the last plate in the dishwasher and tapped it shut with her hip.

'No. Can I come over?'

'Sure,' she answered, ending the call. The doorbell rang immediately. Puzzled, Layla moved the curtain and looked outside. Will was standing on the doorstep holding a huge bottle of something. She smiled. When she opened the door to let him in, her smile faded. Will smelled as if he'd taken a dip in a pool of cheap beer.

'It's your last night as a free woman. Let's celebrate,' he shouted, holding the bottle up so that she could read the label. Layla had no idea why he was doing that. It was not designer champagne; not that either of them cared about that. She suspected – judging by the size of the bottle – that it was one of those champagne brands people use at sporting matches to squirt foam all over the winner. That was oddly sexual, now that she thought about it.

'Come in,' she urged, standing aside. She offered him her arm, but Will rejected it. His brusqueness was completely out of character, but Layla attributed it to the alcohol. When he then proceeded to almost trip over the carpet, she blamed that on the alcohol too. Will regained his balance just in time.

'I'm fine, I'm fine,' he mumbled. He stood in the hallway for a couple of seconds. Completely still with a confused expression on his face. He's forgotten where he is, Layla thought. It was maybe too generous a guess. The look in Will's eyes seemed to indicate that he'd forgotten _who_ he was. It would have been funny if she hadn't needed him to be able to perform his best man duties tomorrow.

'Warren is not going to be happy when you show up to the wedding hung over,' she remarked. It was meant as a slight rebuke; a way of getting Will to accept her arm. She would have to escort him to the kitchen. It was clear that he was not going to make it on his own.

'Why am I Warren's best man? I like the guy well enough, but he's not my friend. You're my friend,' Will protested. His speech was fairly coherent for someone swaying on his feet. He sounded indignant. On the verge of anger. It was a little late to change things now, so Layla opted to ignore most of his comment.

'Why didn't you say something? You could have come to my party,' she suggested. As if that would have solved anything. Sure, it would have solved the problem of Will's drunkenness right now, since Layla's party had taken place a couple of weeks ago.

'And sit there surrounded by women?' he whined. Layla nodded, feigning sympathy and slipping an arm around his shoulder. She gently tried to steer him towards the kitchen – a place with tiles and lots of water: it was perfect for drunks! – but Will had other plans. He made a beeline for the couch. Sighing, Layla followed.

Will plonked down on the couch. He hoisted the booze onto the pillow to his left. Layla sat down besides the massive champagne bottle. Suddenly, Will looked sort of defeated. His rapidly changing emotions were exhausting to witness. It's like the five stages of grief, except in Will's case it's the five stages of plastered, Layla realised.

They sat on the couch for a while without talking. Layla wasn't sure where Will's head was at now. His hair was obscuring his face and his breathing was shallow. He could be asleep for all she knew.

'You know what's weird? I always thought I'd marry you,' she confessed, quietly. She'd had it all figured out down to the seating arrangements.

'I always thought you'd marry me too,' Will whispered. He looked so sad.

'Aw, Will. You'll find someone,' Layla reassured him. Will continued to look sad. It was heartbreaking. Another thing it was: ridiculous. Will dated _a lot_. The sheer number of women he dated meant that he was bound to eventually meet someone he liked. That was just basic math.

Still, Layla couldn't bear to see her best friend like that. She hauled the bottle out of the way and put it on the floor. Next, she took Will's face into her hands and kissed him. It was meant to be a friendly peck – and a clumsy one at that – but nothing that night went as it was supposed to go, so it wasn't a peck. That wasn't Layla's fault, though. It was Will kissing her back that turned it from a peck into a kiss.

She didn't stop him at first, because she was surprised at how deeply and passionately he kissed her. Also, she thought that he'd stop soon enough. After all, he was only kissing her because he was drunk. Layla didn't want him to feel worse than he already did. She didn't want to make this any more awkward than it already was. But Will didn't stop. He just kept on kissing her.


	2. Shake it out

_Author's note: Story title and song titles from the album by Florence + The Machine. Big thanks to Ramona and other guest for reviewing._

**Ceremonials**

**Chapter 2: Shake it out **

The next day.

The wedding was like any other wedding. That was a guess. Layla hadn't attended another wedding. Ever. Her family was small and kind of hippie-ish, which basically meant that most of them thought that marriage was an old fashioned institution best avoided. For a while, she had held out hope that Magenta and Zach might get married, but Magenta had quickly squashed that dream. Apparently, marriage wasn't Magenta's cup of tea either.

Layla had so wanted to be in a wedding. Best (wo)man, bridesmaid, flower girl; she didn't care. She just wanted to be part of a wedding, dammit! Well, here she was: the bride. If weddings were plays, everyone would want the role of the bride. That was arguably the best part. No, no, no, not true. The best part was that she was marrying Warren. The best part was that this fantastic man had gone down on one knee with a ring in his hand and had asked her to marry him. The best part was that he hadn't been crying, but he had definitely been emotional. Yep, Warren was without a doubt the best part.

The wedding itself took forever. A good forever, though. It didn't drag. No one got embarrassingly drunk afterwards and made an awkward speech. Will seemed completely recovered from the night before. Everyone was having fun. Everything was perfect.

Okay, that was a lie. Things were tense between Will and Warren. The tension was close to palpable and Layla couldn't understand why. She hoped that Will hadn't told Warren that he didn't feel like the two of them were friends. 'Cause this was hardly the time or the place. Unfortunately, Will was honest to a fault. He really might have said that he didn't want to be Warren's best man. It was infuriating. If that's how he felt then why hadn't he said something earlier? Arranging the wedding had taken over a year. Surely, he could have found the time to mention it before?

The night was nearly over. Layla was beginning to get tired and her feet were starting to hurt. She was just resting them when Will asked her to dance. She accepted; thinking that this would be an opportunity to ask him about what was going on. As soon as the band would start playing again, the combination of the music and eighty guests conversing would afford them enough privacy.

'And a one and a one, two, three, four,' the drummer said and the band was off. Layla immediately recognised the song. It was one of her favourites: Night Like This by LP.

_Stars are falling_

_Are we falling too?_

_Dawn is coming_

_What's this coming to?_

Whenever she was singing along at home Layla always sang _are we coming too?_ instead of _what's this coming to?_ Maybe it was the way the lyrics were structured. Maybe she was a pervert. Anyway, it was a beautiful song. Layla and Will walked to the dance floor and started to dance. Layla led. Will could follow, but he was rubbish at leading. Kind of the opposite of how he was as a superhero.

'I feel guilty,' Will whispered into her ear. Layla frowned.

'About what?' she whispered back. Will grabbed her by the shoulders and held her away from him. He stared at her as if he couldn't believe what she'd said. Layla suddenly realised what he meant. Relieved, she let out a quiet breath.

'About last night? Don't,' she urged.

'I assume you haven't told Warren?'

Layla nearly laughed. Why would she do that? It had just been a stupid mistake. There was no need to tell Warren. It would only upset him, which was the last thing Layla wanted to do.

'I know that I probably should, but no,' she answered. Will nodded. Layla studied him. There was this grave look of concern on his face that was completely out of place. That was so like Will. So he got drunk and kissed her. Who cared? Only Will could obsess about something like that.

'Can I cut in?' Warren asked.

Layla got the feeling that it was meant to sound apologetic, but it sounded more like a challenge. As if he was prepared to duel for the honour of dancing with her. Preposterous. This wasn't Victorian times or whenever people did that. This also wasn't high school, yet they were acting like teenagers. Her anger at both of them vanished when Warren took her hand.

He slid one arm around her waist. She draped both her arms over his shoulders. It was beyond nice to have him holding her. What was even nicer was how his fingers caressed her back through the fabric of her dress. His touches were so light that they almost weren't there. It drove her crazy. Is this what married life was like? Probably not. It probably involved more mundane things, like filing taxes together and spending holidays in your own home instead of at your parents' house.

'Layla?'

'Hmm?' she murmured.

'You're the first person I ever liked,' he said. Layla gazed up at him with a huge smile on her face. He averted his eyes and continued.

'Don't laugh. It's true. I love my mother and my father, though I hate him too, but I don't especially like them. They're family. And that was it. That was the sum total of people I cared about. Everyone else I just tolerated. But you... you I liked.'

It was sweet and slightly disturbing all at once. In that respect, it was a bit like Warren. How to respond? Layla couldn't think of any words.

'You don't have to say anything,' Warren added. 'Just know that I love you.'

'I know that,' Layla whispered. Sometimes she thought that Warren could easily be a stranger. She knew far less about him than about other people in her life. Nonetheless, she knew the important stuff. She knew that he loved her.

The song ended. The band announced that the next dance would be the last dance of the night and began to play Don't Move by Phantogram. It wasn't a song you could slow dance to. It was a song that called for wild, uncoordinated movements and probably making a fool of yourself. It was just the song for Layla.


	3. What the water gave me

_Author's note: Big thanks to Caddie and Shiobani/Siobhani/Siobhan for reviewing._

**Ceremonials**

**Chapter 3: What the water gave me**

The weather was lovely. As a result, the garden looked beautiful. It didn't need sun or soil or water when it had Layla, but, like most things, the garden simply looked better in the sunlight. The vines trailing up the side of the house. The mass of flowers in their loose borders. The great oak in the middle of the garden. Everything was luscious and green and alive.

Layla sat in the tall grass and didn't worry about the dew getting her dress wet. It was an ugly dress anyway. A few grass stains could only improve it. She leaned back, fanning out her hair with her hands so she wouldn't lie down on it and closed her eyes. Insects buzzed all around her. It was a nice, productive sound. The sound of the future. A door slammed in the house. Layla ignored it. Warren had been in a bad mood for the past week. Ever since the wedding, in fact.

He got like that sometimes. All she could do then was back off and wait for it to pass. Warren got through his feelings on his own with no help from her. It was not the way Layla would've liked it, but it was what it was. There was no changing Warren. He was there for her if she needed someone to talk to or to hold her. That was her process, so she let him have his.

A warm drop of water fell on her cheek. Layla opened her eyes. The sky was a lot less blue than before. Maybe a storm was on its way. Layla smiled. She enjoyed storms. The violence and the beauty of them. There was something awesome about witnessing the forces of nature.

Another door slammed just as a steady drizzle started to fall. This time, Layla rolled onto her stomach and peered at the windows. She couldn't detect Warren anywhere. She touched the grass with her hands. Its long stalks slid through her fingers, almost cutting the flesh. It was a weird sensation. Unlike anything else.

Layla got to her feet and walked to the edge of a flower border. The dress stuck to her legs. She sank onto her knees. The sand was already becoming muddy. There was something fun about that. About getting dirty and not worrying about the state of your clothes.

She dug her hands into the black earth and relished the scrub of the slippery grains against her skin. It was good that no one could see into their garden, because the neighbours would probably think that she was crazy.

'Layla?' Warren called out from somewhere inside the house.

'I'm in the garden,' she shouted. She held out her hands, so that the rain could wash the dirt away. It was no longer drizzling now. It was raining. The drops were still warm, but they cooled on her skin quickly. That was the wind's doing.

Warren walked out of the back door. He stopped when he saw her. His dark hair whipped around his face. Layla tipped her head back a little to catch a rain drop in her mouth. When she looked at Warren again, he was striding across the lawn towards her. He was sporting a spectacular black eye. Layla's gaze dropped to his hands. His knuckles were bloody.

'What happened?' she asked. Warren picked her up with the same kind of ease with which the wind would pick up a leaf and carried her over to the big oak. Underneath its roof of branches, they were sheltered from the wind and rain. Yet, Warren didn't put her down. He took a step and then another until her back came to rest against the coarse bark of the tree. Their bodies were flush against each other. His forehead trembled against hers.

'That's okay. You don't have to tell me. Are you alright?' Layla whispered. Warren shook his head and kissed her. His lips were cold. His tongue was hot. Layla shivered when he moved his right hand up her bare leg, pushing up the fabric of her dress.

'I'll be gentle,' he promised. It was an odd thing to say. He was always gentle. Why would this time be different? He pinned her more securely against the tree. Layla wrapped her legs around his waist. They kissed feverishly while around them the summer storm was building.

His heart beat against her ribcage. She could feel the anger course through his veins the way she could feel the life flow through the flora around her. This was maybe the closest Warren would ever get to sharing his feelings with her.

Warren's fire kept Layla warm as the storm gained momentum. The wind began to whirl around the oak. Water dripped down from its branches and trickled down the trunk. It grew darker. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

'We should go inside,' Warren mumbled.

'We should, but let's not. Let's stay right here.'

'Okay,' he said, chuckling hoarsely. He pressed a kiss to her lips. His hair brushed against her face. His hands bunched up her dress to just above her hips. She watched him as he peeled away the layers that kept them apart.

Then he was inside of her. Layla clung to him and he clung to her. He kissed her slowly, softly, lingering on the simple pleasure of their mouths together, touching, before deepening the kiss. Somehow it was more intimate than it had ever been. It was strange to think that all the times that they'd had sex before, he had been holding back. But still, still, still he moved with a tenderness that overwhelmed Layla. As if words weren't enough and he needed to prove to her how much she meant to him. As if only this stunning intensity would do his love for her justice. As if... as if he wanted to put everything he couldn't say into this one moment.


	4. Never let me go

_Author's note: An enormous thanks to sasume – uchiha, ScarletSometimes and four guests for reviewing._

**Chapter 4: Never let me go**

Afterwards, Warren carried her inside through the pouring rain and they made love again. Layla fell asleep in his arms feeling safe and happy.

(***)

Beams of light played across her face when she woke up. They'd forgotten to close the curtains the night before. Layla shaded her eyes with one arm and reached out for Warren with the other one. He wasn't there. She rolled over with the intention of going back to sleep, until she remembered what had happened yesterday. The state Warren had been in. He wasn't going to get away with keeping the story behind that from her. It was too big. Too disturbing.

Layla slipped out of bed, opened the wardrobe and stopped in her tracks. Warren's side of the wardrobe was empty. Something twisted in her stomach.

She pulled open a random drawer which was supposed to contain his socks. It was also empty. What was going on?

Hastily, she put on some clothes while looking around the bedroom. Not everything of his was gone – thank God – but things were noticeably missing. His reading glasses. His phone charger.

'Warren?' she yelled. He wouldn't just leave, right? And _why _would he leave? She hadn't done or said anything. She couldn't think of anything anyway. They had been married for barely a week. That was simply not enough time to screw up a marriage.

'Warren!'

He did that supremely unhelpful 'here' thing that she found annoying, because where exactly was here? His voice seemed to come from downstairs. Layla finally found him in the kitchen. Along with two suitcases.

'Where are you going?' Layla inquired, struggling to remain calm. She racked her brains for an answer. Business trip? Family visit? She wanted so badly for it to be something normal. A perfectly rational explanation for what was happening. Something that wouldn't mean that her life was falling apart.

Warren didn't say anything at first. He just sat at the kitchen table, looking impatient, as if she was keeping him from somewhere. Yeah, what a hassle. Imagine your wife wanting to know why you're packed and ready to go.

'Will told me about what happened. I'd rather have heard it from you,' Warren said. His voice was curiously flat. Completely devoid of emotion.

'I'm sorry. I know I should have told you, but you two were already not getting along. I didn't want to add to that.'

'Will and I are _not getting along_ because he's in love with my wife.'

Layla almost laughed, but thought about the suitcases and decided against it.

'What? That's not true,' she responded.

'Then why did you sleep with him?' Warren replied icily. This time Layla didn't feel the urge to laugh. This was not funny. Did he seriously think that she was capable of doing something like that? How could he think that she'd do that to him?

'I didn't,' she said, matching his tone and meeting his gaze evenly. He brought his fist down on the table with force.

'Stop lying! I saw you kiss him, Layla. I left my own bachelor party early because I missed you and I saw you kiss Will.'

For a moment, Layla didn't know what to say. She couldn't deny that. She _had_ kissed Will. It just hadn't been the kind of kiss Warren pictured. Maybe if she told him why she'd kissed Will… Without thinking, she stepped forward. Warren immediately withdrew. His whole body flinched away from contact with her. Blinking back tears, Layla cleared her throat and attempted to explain.

'I only kissed him because I felt sorry for him.'

'You kissed him because you love him,' Warren corrected her. Layla shook her head. This was so unfair. So stupid. So ridiculous. Nothing had happened. She had no idea why Warren was determined to think that something had. It didn't even make sense. If she loved Will then why would she have married Warren? Angrily, she turned the question around.

'If you really believe that then why did you marry me?'

'Because I love you,' Warren answered. He got up and lifted the suitcases. He paused, as if he was waiting for her to say something, but Layla pressed her lips together.

She could have said a million things to try and make him stay. She could have said 'I love you,' but he knew that. Or he should have known that, at least. She could have scoffed at his weird notion of love, since he had chosen to believe the worst about her. She could have asked 'What happened to never letting me go?' but that was something someone pathetic would have said. Instead, Layla focused on the cold tiles underneath her bare feet. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't come undone.

She could have said a million things to try and make him stay. But would he have believed any of it?


	5. Breaking down

_Author's note: Thanks to ScarletSometimes and two guests for their super welcome reviews._

**Chapter 5: Breaking down**

Okay, letting Warren leave had been stupid. She had been calling him for hours now and he wasn't picking up. With the phone in her hand, Layla considered her next course of action. She needed advice. Normally, Will would be the one she called and she definitely wanted to talk to him to find out what the hell he'd told Warren, but that could wait. Right now she needed to talk to a friend. Layla pushed her tongue up against the roof of her mouth and called Magenta.

'Layla, hi! How's marriage?'

'It's not.'

'What's that…?'

'Warren thinks I slept with Will,' Layla elaborated. There was a brief silence at the other end.

'How did he react?' Magenta inquired. Layla loved her so much for not asking whether Warren was right.

'It was really strange. He just walked out. It was like he wasn't even angry, but he must have been.'

Another thoughtful pause followed.

'I'm gonna put you on speaker, so that Zach can listen too,' Magenta suddenly announced.

'Okay…' Layla agreed. She wasn't sure where Magenta was going with this, but Layla would take all the help she could get.

'Hi Layla,' Zach mumbled. He sounded embarrassed to be dragged into the conversation.

'Hi Zach. This is kind of awkward, huh?'

'Yeah. I'm sorry about, you know, what happened.'

'Not your fault,' Layla replied. 'So, ehm, not that I mind Zach also weighing in, but what's the point, Magenta?'

'Right,' Magenta said. 'When I'm angry, I'm angry. I scream. I throw with stuff. When I'm not angry, but trying to mould my emotions into something manageable it usually comes out as a quiet, scary form of anger. I whisper, I seem very calm. Was it something like that?'

Layla remembered how eerily composed Warren had been right before leaving.

'He pounded the table once, but otherwise... Yes. He seemed calm. Cold,' she told them.

'That's what I thought. Warren's not like you. Or like Will, for that matter. He's more like me. His anger burns. If it didn't, then something's wrong,' Magenta concluded. Well, _of course_, something is wrong, Layla thought. Warren thought she'd cheated on him.

'This is where Zach comes in,' Magenta explained. 'Honey, remember when we had a date, but you forgot and your phone was turned off so I couldn't reach you? Tell Layla what happened afterwards.'

'She didn't talk to me for a week.'

'Was I angry?'

'Furious. But mostly because she was worried sick.'

'See, Layla? People like me express our love – or any emotion, really – through anger. You say that Warren's anger was subdued? I think that underneath it all he wasn't angry; anger just felt more comfortable. But because he wasn't really angry, it came out sort of distorted.'

This glimpse into Magenta and Zach's relationship was beyond odd. It was uncomfortably intimate. Layla put that aside and contemplated whether Magenta's explanation made sense. It did. Except, Layla couldn't figure out what kind of emotion Warren had been trying to cover up with his weird, chilly anger.

'What is it then? What is he feeling?'

Magenta sighed and told Zach that he could go if he wanted to. There was a bit of undefined noise on Magenta's end before she spoke again.

'I don't know. What other emotion could he have been feeling? He thinks that you slept with another guy – a guy whom he's always considered a rival for your affections, a guy he's been jealous of all his life – the night before you married him. Hurt, Layla. He is hurt.'

It always seemed to come back to that even though Will hadn't been a rival for her affections for years. They had been over and done with a long time ago.

'That can't be...' Layla objected.

'Are you kidding? Will has got hero written all over him. Warren's more like your prototype villain. He feels inferior.'

'I don't believe that. But that doesn't matter. I want to know where to go from here. What should I do?' Layla asked.

'This isn't what you want to hear, but I think that you should wait. When I feel the way that Warren is probably feeling, I close down because I need time to process what has happened. I want to be left alone. If you push too much right now, he might turn away from you completely,' Magenta warned, adding, 'I'm just guessing here, you understand that, right?'

'Yes. Thank you. Bye.'

'Wait! What are you going to do?'

'I don't know.'

'Good luck. Bye.'

Layla barely had time to put the phone down before the doorbell rang. She walked to the door and peered through the peephole. It was Will. His face was a mess. Layla stepped back and considered her options. She was going to have to talk to him eventually. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. He attempted to step inside, but she didn't let him in. Pointedly, she left him standing on the porch.

'I'm sorry. I had to tell Warren,' Will immediately said.

'Why did you tell him we slept together? We didn't.'

Will blinked. He stared at her.

'Come on,' he protested, laughing awkwardly.

'No, you come on! You were drunk. I wasn't. Whatever you think happened, it didn't happen. We didn't sleep together,' Layla summarized.

'We kissed, though,' Will insisted.

'You kissed me and I let you for longer than I probably should have, but you know it didn't mean anything, right?'

Will looked absolutely crushed for a second. Layla, unable to look into his eyes, studied his nose. A little bandage appeared to hold it together. The skin surrounding the bandage was black and blue. Then Will's eyebrows knit together in an angry frown.

'It meant something to me. I love you,' he declared, defiantly.

'Don't be ridiculous,' Layla scoffed. 'Since when?'

'I never stopped.'

Reeling from this news – despite Warren and Magenta and everyone telling her over and over again that this was the case – Layla recoiled.

'But… we fizzled out,' she hesitantly replied. Will shook his head.

'Not on my end. I gave you everything I had for years. Got hurt multiple times. And _he _gets you? What's so special about him? I was there, the whole time, through everything. I love you more than anything. I try so hard, but still I am never good enough.'

'Warren didn't get me. No one got me, because I'm not a possession. I chose Warren. And why didn't you just tell me how you felt?' Layla snapped.

'Because you assumed that our break up was mutual. You sound mad. Are you mad?' Will asked, confused.

'Yes, I'm mad. All this time I thought that you were my friend, but apparently you had a hidden agenda.'

'Once upon a time you were also just my friend, but hoping for more,' he pointed out.

'Hoping, yes,' Layla admitted. 'I didn't _expect_ anything. I didn't think that I'd_ earned_ the right to be with you. I didn't think that I _deserved_ to have you simply because I was a good friend. That's bullshit. I'm not some sort of trophy for being a nice guy, Will. If you really believe that then you're not my friend.'

Layla closed the door in his face and went upstairs. In the bedroom, she slid Warren's sock drawer shut. She sat on the bed and started to cry. How could this have happened? How could this be her life? How could it be that, in the space of a few hours, she had lost the two people who were most important to her?


	6. Lover to lover

_Author's note: Thanks to katiclove for reviewing the previous chapter._

**Chapter 6: Lover to lover**

A month. That was how much time Layla had already given Warren. She hadn't heard a word from him. Not a peep. He could be dead for all she knew.

She was tired of being alone in their house. She was tired of being surrounded by things Warren had left behind. Hell, she _was_ something Warren had left behind. She was tired of waiting for him to contact her.

'Magenta?' Layla called out, knocking on the door a second time. She needed some new advice. Preferably advice that directly contradicted the previous advice, because that advice sucked. Zach opened the door.

'Magenta isn't home. But maybe I will do? I can listen, at least,' he proposed. Reluctantly, Layla followed him inside. Zach took her coat and put the kettle on and motioned for her to take a seat. He talked – an endless stream of anecdotes, jokes and observations. He did everything he could to set her at ease. It had the opposite effect. Nothing was as it was supposed to be.

'Sorry, Zach, but this isn't working. I think I'll come back another time when Magenta is here,' Layla announced, getting to her feet. She was suddenly not even sure if Magenta would do. Magenta was great, but she could be a little too rational sometimes. I miss Will so much, Layla thought. Realising that she was on the verge of crying, she turned away from Zach.

'Hey,' he whispered. He sounded startled, but worried. It was nice. He was nice.

'I'm sorry,' she blubbered, blinking back her tears and facing him. He made a 'never mind' gesture that was somehow goofy. She chuckled.

'Stay for a moment. Have some tea. You don't have to talk about anything if you don't want to,' Zach suggested. She nodded and gratefully sat down again.

'Thank you,' she said.

'You're welcome.'

Zach handed her a mug of tea. She closed her hands around the warm mug and took a small sip. They smiled at each other. Slowly, Layla started to feel more like herself again. She was naturally a happy person. She always looked on the bright side. Feeling miserable and being _this_ close to crying the entire time was wearing her down. She sighed.

'You know what the problem is? At first, I thought that everything would be fixed if Warren would just come back. But now that I've had time to look at our relationship while not really being in it, I can see everything that is wrong with it and I wonder how we ever even made it to the altar,' Layla explained. Zach didn't respond immediately. Not that a response was necessary. It was a relief to get it out.

'Maybe he isn't right for you?' Zach carefully put forward. 'You two are very different.'

'So are you and Magenta!' she protested. He nodded and stood up to get a tray full of huge chocolate chip cookies. He offered them to her. Layla accepted one and nibbled on it. Zach didn't take one for himself.

'Yeah, but we make it work. Before we moved in together Magenta explained to me the inner working of her mind. Magenta is not a touchy-feely person and she hates being vulnerable. She didn't want to have that talk, but she knew we needed to have it in order to survive as a couple. Now I know what she feels and thinks when she acts a certain way,' Zach informed Layla. With obvious pleasure, he selected a cookie from the tray and took an enormous bite.

'She adapted,' Layla summarised. Well, if that was what needed to happen, then her marriage was doomed. Warren was unchangeable. Unknowable and immovable. Zach shook his head, scattering crumbs everywhere.

'You're kind of missing the point. I adapted too. I wanted to get married. Magenta has zero interest in that. Do I want to get married more than I want to be with Magenta? No. So I compromised. If you keep wanting what the other person is unable or unwilling to give then you're going to be unhappy. Maybe that's what you were doing with Warren?'

He suggested it delicately. It was a thing to be handled with caution: the idea that Warren wasn't entirely to blame. Zach is right, though, Layla knew. Not when it came to the current situation, but she was certainly as responsible as Warren for their mess of a relationship. Neither of them was particularly good at communicating.

'You make a relationship sound like a negotiation,' Layla complained.

'Because it is. It's an ongoing negotiation. And you should probably renegotiate. Or…'

Zach stopped there and began to devour his cookie in earnest. It was gone within seconds. He ate another one. He was about to start on a third cookie when Layla impatiently interrupted his chomping.

'Or what? What were you going to say?'

Zach stared at the cookie he was holding with longing.

'Being with someone who's so unlike you can be hard. Wouldn't you rather be with someone more on your wavelength? Someone easier?' he recommended. He isn't exactly subtle, Layla thought.

'Someone like Will, you mean?' she guessed.

'I wasn't specifically suggesting him, but yeah.'

'Would you want to be with someone other than Magenta?'

'No.'

'I feel the same way about Warren.'


	7. No light, no light

**Chapter 7: No light, no light**

Layla knew she wasn't taking good care of herself. Oh, it was nothing dramatic. She wasn't wasting away. On the contrary, she was gaining weight. It had been easy to eat healthy and exercise when she'd been happy. At the moment, though, she was not in the mood for vegetables or yoga. She wanted to sit on the couch and eat pizza while watching The Real Housewives of Something. She wanted to numb herself.

But no more! She was going to be active. First order of business: finding Warren. She gathered a notebooks and a pen and jotted down names and numbers. Then she grabbed her phone and started calling. After an exhaustive round of calls to Warren's friends – short list – and hotels, Layla still didn't know where her husband was.

No matter! Next order of business: eating at least one nutritious meal. This brought her to the Paper Lantern, since she figured she might as well go out too. Sitting coped up at home with her life on hold until Warren got his head out of his ass wasn't exactly fun.

And she wasn't even going to drive there. She'd walk. Bam! Fresh air and some much needed physical exercise all at once. Outside, though it was cold – bitingly so - Layla took a deep breath. She was beginning to feel a little more like herself now.

It was great to be out of the house. She soaked up the sun, enjoying the little bit of warmth and light it provided. When she had almost reached her destination and was crossing the street to get to the Paper Lantern, the light was suddenly in her eyes. Blinded by the sun, she raised a hand and peeked at the gleaming surface that was causing the trouble. It was one of the windows of the apartment above the restaurant. The sun was reflected in it. Layla walked on until the glass was no longer a white, glinting sheet.

There was someone in the upstairs apartment, moving about. That was strange. The owner of the restaurant - who was also the chef - had never been able to rent the apartment to anyone. Even with the economy circling the drain, the apartment had remained empty for some reason. Until now, apparently.

Squinting, Layla stared at the window, waiting for the inhabitant to appear again. All she could see for a moment was shoulder length black hair. A woman then, Layla decided. Then the woman turned around and it was a man. It was Warren.

The leafless tree next to Layla quivered. She looked at it in wonder. The tree trunk was vibrating violently as if it was about to explode. She placed her hand against the bark, realising as she did that her hand was shaking too. The feeling in her chest threatened to engulf her. She tried desperately to let it go. She tried to unclench. Slowly, the tree stilled. She was nowhere near relaxed, but she had managed to get the feeling under control. Breathing evenly, Layla patted the tree.

So, Warren was here. She had no idea what it meant that he was staying in the apartment above her favourite restaurant, but that wasn't important right now. He was here. She could see him. Talk to him. Trembling slightly, Layla entered the Paper Lantern. She needed time to calm down, so she opted to eat first to give herself the time to do so. She selected a seat and waited for someone to come take her order. A man approached her and after she'd told him what she'd like to eat, she inquired about the new tenant.

'Is someone renting the upstairs apartment?'

Her voice stayed level while her heart thumped wildly. The man nodded and conspiratorially leaned closer.

'Marriage trouble, I think. And he'd just gotten married.'

Layla gave the man a tight, awkward smile and breathed a sigh of relief when he retired to the kitchen. She fiddled with the napkin on the table. Instead of calming down, she was only growing more agitated. Just the idea of Warren being so close was undoing her. Maybe she should follow Magenta's advice after all. Nothing good could come from seeing Warren now. She was too upset. Too angry. On the other hand, she'd already spent Christmas and New Year's Eve and all the days in between and after without Warren.

Ultimately, Layla decided to go rogue. She ate her meal in a hurry, barely chewing, tasting nothing. She threw some money on the table and exited the restaurant. There was a rickety metal staircase attached to the side of the building. She ran up it. The stairs creaked under her weight. There was no doorbell or knocker, so she knocked. Thank God that there isn't a lot of nature around, she thought. The way she was feeling now she was capable of uprooting entire forests.

When Warren opened the door, he looked so normal before he recognized her. It pissed her off.

'Hi, it's your wife!' she chirped, waltzing past him into the apartment before he could recover from the shock. It was immediately evident why no one had wanted to rent the apartment. The neglected state of the place was extraordinary. It was small, squalid and the strong smell of Chinese food hung in the air. A few half dead plants drooped depressingly in a dark corner. She turned to see that Warren had left the door open. They glared at each other.

'I want you to leave,' he said, averting his eyes when she continued to stare at him. This man she loved – yes, _loved_, still – couldn't even bear to look at her.

'Please leave,' he urged. His whole body was rigid with tension. His fists were throwing off sparks that luckily turned to ashes before alighting on the filthy carpet.

'Leave!' he shouted. Layla swallowed and shook her head. His anger didn't scare her. She would take his fury over his chilly indifference any day of the week. The panic in his eyes was awful, though. Clearly, the thought of having to endure another second in her company was too much.

'Then I'll leave,' he muttered. She did it without thinking, but she did it. Vines threaded around Warren's wrists, keeping him in place. Surprised, his head snapped up and their gazes locked.

'Don't do this, Layla.'

'I don't know what else to do,' she whispered. That caused him to stop straining against her hold. Neither of them spoke for a while. The silence got so big, so heavy that she had to say something. Of course, she settled on the wrong thing.

'He was so drunk. He thought...'

With a growl, Warren's hands ignited. The vines shrunk away from the fire.

'I'm no one's second choice,' he bit at her. Layla sighed, allowing the plants to shrivel back to their natural size and return to their dismal existence.

'I feel like we're not even having the same conversation,' she muttered, frustrated. 'Tell me what I can do to convince you that you're the only one for me. What can I do to make you believe me?'

'Go. You should go.'

Maybe he does need more time after all, Layla thought. Maybe it was like that quote. _If you love someone, set them free. If they come back; they're yours. If they don't; they never were._ Unfortunately, patience was not her virtue. But she could try again. She was about to listen and leave when Warren closed the door.

They faced each other. She looked at him expectantly. He kept standing there with his back to the door; his muscles taut. He remained on edge, but something had changed. He was looking at her now. It didn't take long before the full force of his hunger struck her. A shiver of want crawled up her spine.

He bridged the distance between them in one step and kissed her. It felt so good. She had gone so long without his mouth on hers, without his tongue parting her lips, without his hands on her body. It felt wonderful to be wanted by him. And at the same time, it was almost impersonal.

He eased her onto a mattress. It was dirty, like everything else in the apartment. There was no tenderness. It was rather vicious. It was all wrong. But still… Still, still, still! Maybe this was the opening she had been hoping for. Maybe this was the way to get to Warren.

When it was done, nothing was different. She had done nothing wrong and Warren refused to believe that.

'I don't trust Will,' he said, while they dressed. Exasperated, Layla turned on him.

'No, you don't trust _me_. Will would never do anything that I don't want. So, it's me you don't trust.'


	8. Seven devils

**Ceremonials**

**Chapter 8: Seven devils**

'Will would never do anything that you don't want?' Warren repeated, as if he couldn't believe that she had actually said that. Layla sighed. All she had meant was that Will wouldn't force himself on her. If she'd said no – like she'd eventually done – he would have stopped. And he had. However, Layla could imagine how Warren's circular logic would turn that into:

Will kissed Layla. Will doesn't do anything Layla doesn't want. Ergo, Layla had wanted Will to kiss her.

It was not the most illogical leap to make.

'I just mean that he's my best friend and...'

'_I_ am supposed to be your best friend,' Warren interrupted. Layla rolled her eyes and linked her arms together.

'Maybe you should be, but you've never shown any interest in the position. Do you remember what you told me at our wedding? Well, it's different for me: I like everyone. I'm serious. Someone has to do a lot of stuff before they get in my bad graces. I put up with a lot from people. Especially from you. Honestly, I've taken more shit from you than I've ever taken from anyone. Too bad that you can't return the favour just once. Too bad that it's too much to ask for you to trust me.'

It was a devastating conclusion to a pretty awful tirade and Layla immediately felt like she's overstated her case. This was the trouble with being nice; being assertive and being nice sometimes clashed. And there was always that niggling feeling after you'd said something mean that made you want to take back your words.

'I forgive you,' Warren suddenly said.

'What!' she blurted out.

'I forgive you for kissing Will or for Will kissing you or for whatever happened. I don't care,' Warren explained. And God forgive her, but she wanted to take it for a second. She couldn't, though. It made her want to cry, but she simply couldn't.

'Warren, no,' Layla protested.

'No, what?' Warren asked.

'I can't accept your forgiveness, because there's nothing to forgive. The problem was never Will kissing me. It's that I barely know you. It's that you don't trust me. You don't talk to me. You don't tell me anything. You're always there for me, but you won't let me do the same for you. You don't let me in, Warren. That's not a marriage! That's not even a relationship. I mean, look at what you did. You cut me out of your life as if it was nothing,' Layla elaborated. Warren shook his head.

'It was not nothing.'

Layla shrugged. How was she supposed to know? He didn't show or tell. Warren raked a hand through his hair and fixed his gaze on her.

'Can't we just go back to the way things were?' he pleaded. She felt bad for putting him through this. He wasn't like this by design; it was his nature.

'You mean: I pretend that I don't want the things you aren't comfortable giving? No. Being apart has made me see how screwed up our relationship was. I can't unsee it now.'

'I thought we were doing fine.'

'We were fine as long as I didn't mind that my needs weren't met.'

Warren reacted in an unexpected way. He took her into his arms and held her. It reminded her of when they first started dating. He had often craved that kind of intimacy then. It was an intimacy he was most comfortable with: his body, hers, wordless.

'I don't want to lose you,' Warren finally admitted, adding, 'But I don't want you to be unhappy either.'

Tears welled up in Layla's eyes. She nodded with her cheek against his shoulder. He began to softly stroke her hair. She took a deep breath and told Warren what she'd been going through.

'I think I deluded myself into thinking you'd change eventually,' she whispered. 'That you'd realise that I was not going anywhere and you'd feel secure enough to open up to me. After a while, I started to believe that you were never going to get there. What would it take to make you feel safe?'

It had taken Layla a long time to know that any effort on her part was wasted. That safe place: Warren needed to get there on his own. Slowly, she removed Warren's arms and stepped out of his embrace. Warren's face... he looked so lost.

'Tell me what I can do to fix this. Tell me what I have to do to make you happy,' Warren demanded, determined.

'Let me in. I kept waiting for you to let me in, but you never did and I couldn't do it for you.'


	9. Heartlines

**Ceremonials**

**Chapter 9: Heartlines**

'How do I do that?' Warren asked.

It was seriously sad and screwed up that Warren needed instructions on how to let someone in, how to make someone part of his life, how to _share_. It just about broke Layla's heart. On the other hand, she knew how to do this. This was as natural to her as breathing. Carefully, she made a suggestion.

'You could start by, I don't know, telling me something you haven't told anyone before? It has to be something significant, though,' Layla explained.

Warren looked at her without seeing her, seemingly searching inside for something that met the criteria. When his face became pained, Layla knew that he had found something. Only the thought of opening up could bring that expression to his face. A mixture of anger, reluctance and, most of all, fear.

'I own this place,' Warren confessed.

'The apartment?' Layla asked, confused.

'No. Yes. The restaurant too. I bought the whole building,' he clarified. Did this count as important? Layla didn't think so. It appeared to have very little to do with Warren as a person or the two of them as a couple.

'Why?' she inquired. Warren swallowed, as if to postpone the moment that he'd have to give her the reason for deciding, out of the blue, to buy a rickety apartment and a Chinese restaurant. That's how Layla guessed that it was important after all.

'It's where we started. You and me. This where we first… This is where I fell in love with you.'

'That's good. That qualifies. Definitely,' Layla stammered, filled with joy. She smiled at him. Warren didn't return the smile. He was too busy looking like he expected to be slapped down and ground into the dirt, like a bug. It made something in Layla's chest clench. When she made no attempt to crush him, verbally or otherwise, he looked surprised. Surprised, confused and relieved.

'What did you think would happen, Warren? Did you expect me to laugh at you? Use this against you in some way?'

'I don't know,' he admitted. 'I know that I expect the worst of people. And I know that I feel uncomfortable telling you this. I'm not good at whatever it is we're doing now. I don't enjoy being…'

'Vulnerable?' Layla supplied. He nodded.

'It's not easy for anyone. It's not easy for me either. There's always the chance that someone will betray you or hurt you, but you can't let that stop you. I think that, in order to get to the heart, you have to cut through that fear,' she told him.

'What a thing to do!' Warren exclaimed.

'But on the other side of that, there's love, sometimes,' she replied.

'You,' he said.

'Me,' Layla agreed. You, she thought. Us, she thought. They looked at each other and Layla swore later that she could see him do it. Right then and there, Warren made the decision to let her in. To let her love him. They still had a long way to go, but that day they took the first step towards a better relationship.

'That's more than you deserve,' Layla joked, aware of the fact that she was quite possible ruining their moment.

'Maybe that's true. Maybe I don't deserve you,' Warren admitted. 'But I want you. I love you and I want you and I will work for it. You know, I always thought that it wasn't about what fitted, because then you'd be with Will. I thought what mattered was that two people worked. I promise you that, this time, I will do my best to make us work. I will do whatever it takes to make you happy again.'

'About Will…' Layla began.

'He's your best friend,' Warren interrupted.

'He is. Well, he was,' she corrected. Warren shook his head.

'He _is_. You'll make up.'

'You won't make me choose? Because I won't do that,' Layla warned.

'I won't, but I do think that you should talk to him. He's your friend, but he's also in love with you.'

'I know. I'll talk to him when I'm ready,' Layla said. 'For now…'

She drew Warren closer by his hands - her palms against his palms, their heart lines entwined - and kissed him. Warren can do this, she marvelled. And, more importantly, he was _willing_ to do it. Prepared to overcome his fear and let her in. They stood a chance to finally be a real couple. To become a family.


	10. Spectrum

**Ceremonials**

**Chapter 10: Spectrum**

It took a long time to get things right. After all, it wasn't like they were slowly finding their way back to each other. They had nothing to return to. They had to start over completely and make different mistakes. The mistakes they had been too afraid to make the first time. It was bound to be difficult. But both their hearts were in it this time around and that helped a lot.

Warren moved back in, filling all the empty spaces in the house and inside of Layla. At first, they moved around their home like ghosts. They spoke softly and walked without making a sound. They behaved like strangers, because they were. Even when they made love, they did it quietly. Even when they made love, it felt strange.

'How can you love me when you don't know me?' Warren asked in an unprecedented show of faith. In one fell swoop, he acknowledged that she loved him (something he had rarely done before, simply because he didn't believe it) and that they had never really gotten to know each other.

'I love the parts of you I've seen,' Layla explained. 'And I want to discover and love the rest.'

(***)

One week later.

Their lovemaking was the first thing to change in a huge way. Layla was so accustomed to Warren's gentleness during sex – except for that one time above The Paper Lantern – which was why it came as a bit of a shock when he proposed trying something different. Something rough. He told her that if anything he did made her feel uncomfortable, she should tell him so and the experiment would be over immediately.

'Okay,' she agreed. Warren looked at her closely.

'Are you sure?'

'I'm sure.'

Mere minutes later, his teeth raked across her throat. That was new. Teeth. He had never used teeth before. Next, he held her wrists above her head, pinned against the mattress. That was new too. Also: surprisingly exciting.

'Alright?' he inquired, breathing heavily. Layla nodded. That was when Warren's thrusts grew stronger. He utilised more of his strength. Not all of it, but more than usual. His hips came just shy of bruising her.

'Yes!' Layla gasped, trying to meet and match his strokes. They grinned at each other. Some of the recent awkwardness between them evaporated.

'Is that the way you like it?' Layla asked when they were lying on the bed exhausted.

'Sometimes,' Warren admitted.

'I like it too.'

(***)

Two weeks later.

They had their first fight as a couple. Layla saw that during their argument all Warren wanted to do was walk away, but he stayed. He trembled and his hands glowed, but he didn't retreat. He shouted right back at her. He flinched every time she accused him of something that was true, but he gave as good as he got. Afterwards, they made love on the kitchen floor.

'See, we can fight and still be alright,' Layla pointed out. Warren swept his hand down her body.

'I want to meet your father,' she whispered. His hand stopped. Layla glanced at him. He was breathing evenly, but not calmly. More like he _wanted_ to be calm, like he was trying to calm himself down. Eventually, he got up and got dressed.

'Don't do what you used to do. Don't shut me out,' Layla warned. Warren shook his head.

'I'm not. Let me think about this. I can't do everything at once,' he said. So, she did. She waited. She knew that his father was a sore subject. Warren thought that loving him was a weakness. Oh, he'd never said it, of course, but it was obvious. So, she waited, hoping that Warren would reopen the subject when he was ready.

(***)

Three weeks later.

They were in the garden. Warren was building a gazebo and Layla was watching and occasionally handing him a tool. Sweat was running down her back, despite the lack of exertion. Warren's shirt was plastered to his torso.

'Drinks?' Layla suggested, already on her way inside.

'Yeah,' Warren mumbled. Aware of the warm earth beneath her bare feet with every step she took, Layla ran into the house. She paused in front of the fridge, briefly closing her eyes, enjoying the coolness. Warren came in behind her.

'What do you want? Beer, lemonade, water?' Layla asked.

'You're asking me for the hardest thing,' he replied.

'Um, what?'

'I don't want you to meet my father.'

Well, thank God he's not having an existential crisis over beverages, Layla thought. Her brain always supplied a little levity in times of stress. Sometimes it was helpful. Sometimes it was annoying.

'I know that you don't like him,' she began. Warren chuckled.

'I don't like my father because he's me,' he explained. 'He's the parts of me I have kept from you. My father is not a nice man.'

Layla didn't say anything. She fully expected Warren to elaborate. It wasn't like before when she waited forever and nothing came. Warren wiped the moisture of his forehead with the back of his hand and continued.

'My father is bitter and angry and paranoid. He doesn't trust anyone; he thinks that everyone is his enemy. He's me without love. He's me without you.'

Layla thought about that and decided that Warren was full of shit.

'That's simply not true. I met that man. You were him, Warren. I saw that side of you when we were together. I'm not the one who transformed you. My love didn't change you. _You_ did that. You chose not to be guy anymore,' she told him.

'I guess…'

'No! You were scared and suspicious, but you overcame that. Don't pretend I did that for you,' Layla protested. Warren held up his hands in a gesture of mock surrender.

'Okay, okay,' he laughed, sweeping her up into his arms. Layla laughed too. How could she not? It was rare to see Warren so exuberant, so overwhelmingly happy. He swung her around and around. It's a good thing that we have a big kitchen, Layla thought. They were both out of breath when he set her down on the kitchen table. He brushed her sticky hair out of her eyes and cupped her face in his hands.

'Will you at least allow me to say that I couldn't have done it without you? That I did it because of you?' he pleaded, looking amused, yet serious. Layla shrugged.

'The court will allow it,' she granted. He smiled and kissed her. She opened her mouth to accommodate him. He leaned into her until she was lying with her back on the table. With his body against hers, Warren paused.

'I love you so much,' he suddenly said. He sounded confident, like he finally accepted that she felt the same and she didn't need to echo the sentiment to reassure him. Layla rose up to kiss him before joking.

'Ditto. I love me too. _So much_.'

Warren snorted and covered her lips with his. This is it, Layla realised. This man right here, fearlessly loving me: this is the rest of my life, she thought.


	11. All this and heaven too

**Ceremonials**

**Chapter 11: All this and heaven too**

One month after reuniting.

It was a Saturday afternoon and Will was calling again. He averaged about five calls a week. Always from his cell phone. He never tried to trick her by borrowing someone else's phone or something like that. It was his number that showed up on the display, so that Layla could decide if she wanted to talk to him.

I should, she thought, but she did nothing. For a long time, she had been hopelessly in love with Will. It had been the worst. Or so she'd thought at the moment, at least. It had been extremely painful. Even at the time, she'd tried to persuade herself that it only felt like that because she was so young. The pain you felt as a teenager was amplified. Huge and dramatic every time. Unfortunately, that wasn't true. Unrequited love simply hurt; no matter what age you were.

That was the way Will loved her now. Layla remembered that desperate, passionate all-consuming feeling all too well. She'd rather be on the other side of it, honestly. She'd rather be the one hurting than the one causing the hurt. The thought of having to tell Will how things stood brought tears to her eyes, but they needed to talk. He was her best friend, after all. The phone was still ringing. Layla answered it.

'Will, are you free right now?'

There was a brief silence at the other end of the line.

'I am,' Will eventually replied. He sounded startled, as if he had been caught off guard by her picking up the phone. Layla shared the feeling.

'Do you want to come over?' she suggested.

'Yes. I want to talk to you to explain…'

'Tell me when you get here,' Layla interrupted him. Again he didn't speak for a few seconds. She thought that he might have been collecting his thoughts.

'See you in fifteen minutes,' Will said.

'See you.'

Feeling nervous, Layla wandered around the house. Warren was out on an unspecified errand. He'd been acting secretive again, lately. When she'd asked him about it, he'd told her that he'd tell her soon. Five minutes after Layla had ended the call, the doorbell rang. Well, that was quick, she thought. When she opened the door, however, it wasn't Will.

'Layla! I'm so glad that you're home,' Magenta exclaimed. Zach and Ethan stood next to the beautiful brunette; towering over her and looking awkward as hell.

'Hi guys,' Layla said, a little confused. 'I didn't know you were coming.'

'You weren't supposed to. We're here to do an intervention of sorts,' Magenta announced, impatiently gesturing for Ethan and Zach to enter. Zach mouthed 'I'm so sorry' at Layla while going past.

'A what?' Layla stammered, still holding the door open. Magenta took Layla by the arm and led her into the sitting room.

'Is Warren home?' Magenta inquired. Dumbly, Layla shook her head.

'So, the two of you are back together. Don't answer that. It wasn't a question. We, okay, _I _think that might not be the best idea. Wouldn't you rather be with Will?' Magenta suggested. Layla managed to extricate her arm from her friend's grip and turned on Zach.

'Did you…?'

'No, I swear I didn't!' he protested, embarrassed.

'Then why?' Layla questioned. To her surprise, Ethan was the one who answered.

'We ship you with Will. I'm saying this in the dumbest possible way, because it _is _dumb. We like Will. We like you. We want you to be together. Obviously, you don't want that or you wouldn't be with Warren. In other words: everything I just said is basically nonsense and you should ignore it. The thing is, though, that we have seen you be with Warren and he hasn't always treated you well. We're worried about that.'

They all looked really embarrassed after Ethan had spoken.

'You ship me with Will?' Layla demanded, incredulously.

'I don't,' Magenta replied. 'I like Warren. More than Will, really. It's just that some of the things Warren has done… I think that Will wouldn't do that. I get that opposites attract. I'm with Zach, after all. An easy relationship would probably bore me because I enjoy a battle now and then, so Zach is perfect for me. You don't like fighting, which is why I feel that Will would be much better for you. You two fit.'

Speechless, Layla gaped at her friend. To be ambushed like this, by Magenta of all people, was incredibly hurtful. Not to mention that you didn't _ship _actual people. You shipped fictional people and let real people decide for themselves who they wanted to be with. You didn't go: 'Hey, we like this better so - screw who you love – change your life to accommodate us.' Furiously, Layla retorted.

'It's not about what fits; it's about what works. Warren and I work. Yeah, we didn't always, but we do now. So, stop it. Just stop. Oh, and, by the way, you're right. I don't like fighting, but when it is necessary I am a fighter. I will always fight for what I want and for who I love.'

Stricken, Magenta glanced at Zach and Ethan, who avoided her gaze and both meekly apologised to Layla.

'I didn't mean it like that,' Magenta offered. 'I, we, only want what's best for you.'

That softened Layla somewhat, though she was still pretty angry.

'I don't love Will that way, so how could he be best for me?' she asked. Behind them, someone coughed. Layla turned to find Will standing there, looking like his heart had been thrown into a wood chipper.

'That's clear. Hi, the door was open, so…' he said, letting the sentence trail off into nothingness. No one said anything. Will's lip started to tremble. The only one of them who knew what to do was Magenta. She practically leaped into Will's arms. Will stumbled back with amazed laughter.

'What are all of you doing here?'

'Telling Layla that we ship her with you, like the idiots we are,' Zach dryly replied. Taken aback, Will chuckled; setting Magenta down again.

'You did? Really? But she loves Warren,' he pointed out, looking at Layla while he said it. Magenta poked at his side in an affectionate manner. Will, faintly smiling, ignored the constant prodding. Magenta's reaction is the only thing that saved him from breaking down, Layla realised.

'I do, even though he can be so rude sometimes,' Layla responded.

'You're telling me?' Will joked, blinking rapidly all the while. Layla smiled.

'I'm sorry about telling Warren about something that didn't happen,' Will quickly added. 'Afterwards, I tried to tell him I was wrong, but he wouldn't believe me.'

'Yeah, I imagine that it was hard to convince him that nothing happened. He saw us kissing, you know.'

'He saw us? How? Wait, if he was there, then why did he think that we slept together?'

'He left too soon,' Layla explained. Zach and Ethan were looking even more embarrassed than before, while Magenta appeared to be intrigued. Will, though, caught Layla's eye, which caused them both to burst out laughing. It was finally seeing that the situation had been almost soap opera-ish in its set up that did it. Absolutely everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong and then some. The others regarded them strangely as they laughed until they cried.

'You don't blame me?' Will choked out, trying to catch his breath.

'No. I should have told him about the kiss and he should have trusted me,' Layla replied with tears streaming down her face.

'How's this funny? I swear, you two are on the exact same weird wavelength,' Ethan decided. Zach nodded sagely. Magenta rolled her eyes. Never one for politely coughing to announce his presence, Warren startled everyone by stepping forward and speaking up.

'Reunion?'

'Kind of,' Layla told him, drying her tears. Warren studied the lot of them. Zach and Ethan sighed. Will seemed to shrink until Magenta poked him and he batted away her hand in a sudden show of assertiveness. After that, he raised himself to his full length.

'You two have made up? You are friends?' Warren asked, addressing Will.

'We are,' Will admitted, glancing at Layla to confirm that this was true. Layla nodded.

'Good,' Warren replied and went down on one knee in front of Layla.

'What are you doing?' Layla whispered. Taking a blue velvet jewellery box out of his pocket and opening it, Warren gazed up at her.

'Asking you to marry me again.'


	12. Leave my body

**Ceremonials**

**Chapter 12: Leave my body**

'I fucked it up the first time around, but you gave me a second chance. I want to get married again, reaffirm our vows, because this time you'll know me. No more secrets.'

'No more lies,' Layla corrected him.

'No more lies,' Warren agreed. 'Marry me.'

'Okay, yes, of course,' she murmured, blinking back tears. Lately, she was incredibly emotional. She seemed to be forever on the verge of crying – for understandable reasons. All she could really see of the ring through her unshed tears was that it was very sparkly. Warren slid it around Layla's finger and gave her a kiss. It was soft, sweet and short.

'I looked at a few venues already, but I didn't know what you wanted. Do you want a huge party like last time or something small and private? Most of the places I looked at were spoken for, though. There's not a lot available at short notice. If we want a big wedding, we might have to wait as much as six months,' Warren detailed.

'We should probably move the date up a bit,' Layla suggested. 'If you want me to fit in my wedding dress, that is.'

'Why? Do you plan on getting fat?' Warren joked. Will – having already arrived there; ahead of everyone else – beamed. Also cottoning on, Magenta whispered something to Zach, who then imparted the news to Ethan. Meanwhile, Warren got halfway to his feet before the true meaning of Layla's words sunk in and he stared at her.

'What are you saying?' he asked. His voice was husky with emotion.

'I'm pregnant.'

'Are you sure?' Warren whispered. She nodded; her eyes brimming with tears. Blurry though her vision was, it was impossible not to see Warren's potential happiness turn into actual happiness. His face lit up. He brushed away her tears with his thumbs and kissed her. A lingering, over the moon, I-wish-we-were-alone-so-I-could-make-love-to-you-right-now kiss.

Six months later.

'I just thought of another one. Our kids cannot know that _X-men_ exists,' Layla told Warren. They were sitting next to each other on the couch. Warren had one arm around Layla. The hand of that arm rested on her belly. Seven months into her pregnancy, her belly was now properly sticking out.

'Why not?' Warren murmured. Layla looked to the side with a raised eyebrow.

'Because the X-men have superpowers and everyone is basically afraid of them. Or hates them,' she explained. After a beat, Layla expanded.

'Plus, the fire guy is a total dick,' she added.

'Not entirely inaccurate,' Warren pointed out. She glanced at him, but he was entirely absorbed by her belly and the baby within. To get his attention, she lightly punched him in the shoulder.

'Hey! Focus. In about two months he or she is going to pop out and then you can ignore me all you want. What time is it?' Layla inquired.

'Almost ten. When is Will going to be here?'

'Any minute now. He takes his best man duties very seriously,' Layla remarked.

'This time around,' Warren muttered. Layla glared. He threw up his hands in defence.

'What? Can you at least admit that when he was _my _best man, he was the worst?' Warren pleaded. Grudgingly, Layla nodded. She had resigned herself to the fact that Will was her friend and would never be Warren's. Honestly, she didn't know what they had been thinking when they had been pretending that Warren and Will were best friends.

'Help me get up,' Layla ordered. 'We've got a wedding to go to.'

The end.


End file.
